Body Music
by xXxNatalyaxXx
Summary: Jonathan had a secret. A terrible, dirty little secret. The worst kind of secret to keep. The kind that eats at you from the inside out, tearing you apart. And no one knew. Not even her. He was 18, she was 16. His beautiful little sister. And he was so disgustingly attracted to her. Jonathan/Isabelle AU. Slight Clace. References to incest. Mild Language.
1. Chapter 1

"Can I come in?" She says softly, peeping through the door.

"Of course," he replied. He's lying on his bed, a book in his hands. She comes and sits on his bed, folding her legs beneath her.

"Jon?" Clary said questioningly

He doesn't reply.

"Jon!" she practically shouted.

 _"_ _Babe._ I'm right here." He smiles softly, and she laughs, before she became serious.

"I need to ask you a question."

"Ask away."

She pulled at her hair, twisting it round her hand and looked down. Jonathan wasn't stupid. He knew when she was unhappy.

"Okay. What's wrong Clary? Come here."

Jonathan pats the space next to him on his bed. But instead, she sits on him, the book falling out of his hand in shock.

"Do you- do you think I'm pretty?" she said nervously.

"Is that even a question?" he paused. "You're the most beautiful girl in the world."

Her smile was wide, but he knew there was something more. He sat up, and gave her a hug, before asking:

"What did they say?"

Her smile drops and she turns her face away from him. He holds her tight as she took a deep breath, calming her nerves.

"They- they told me that I was ugly because I had freckles," she said slowly, her eyes closed. He pushes her face to the side so that she looked at him, but she refused to look him in the eye, focusing on his nose instead.

"Look at me," He said quietly.

"You are not ugly. Okay? I don't care what those boys said to you, I'm your brother. You trust me." He said with a stubborn aggressiveness he hadn't quite needed.

She nods slightly with a muffled "okay."

"Besides," he added. "I have freckles too; do you think I'm ugly?"

"No..." She giggles.

Clary hugged him tightly, before he realised why he felt so uncomfortable and groaned.

She frowned at him, but he waved it off, saying that he was really tired.

"Okay then, good night Jonathan."

"Goodnight Clary."

She kisses his cheek and slips out of his bedroom, humming, and he makes a dying noise.

Jonathan got into the showers, having stripped and turning the water on.

Clary.

His baby sister.

He scrubbed at his hair roughly, letting the water run scalding over his skin.

He wanted to not be her brother. He wanted her to love him like a lover. Not like a brother. He thought about her hair, how wonderfully red it was and he couldn't focus- she was so beautiful.

Deep breath.

He closed his eyes and let the hot water run over him.

He had to block the thoughts.

Because this...

Was so.  
Not.  
Right.

* * *

 _"_ _Jon?" she whispered._

 _"_ _Hmm." He was awake, but his thoughts were dazed, as if still in dreams._

 _Clary slipped through the door._

 _Definitely still in in dreams, he thought._

 _"_ _I had a nightmare. Can I sleep with you?" she asked._

 _"_ _Clary..."_

 _"_ _Please?" there was a pleading desperation to her words._

 _He sighed. He never said no to his baby sister._

 _"_ _Come."_

 _She slid under the cover, and lay there, closing her eyes, her breathing becoming lighter._

 _But he was awfully awake. And he didn't like it one bit._

* * *

 ** _I know I shouldn't be posting yet another story, but I really need this up because I seem to have reached an Impasse and 5000 words. Help me._**

 ** _Leave a review, updates potentially soon._**


	2. Chapter 2

He went to a party on Saturday. He took Clay with him, because she said she wanted to go. Of course, she didn't really dress up, but she still looked cute in her skinny jeans and her loose grey top. Her hair was tied up and there were small dangling earrings on her ears.

And it wasn't like he'd cleaned up any fancier. He wore a shirt, jeans, and converse, a thin woollen sweater on top with the sleeves pushed up. Like he said before, nothing fancy.

When they got there, he went straight for drinks, and when Clary followed him nervously, he laughed and suggested she go dance with everyone else. So she did. He didn't quite know if he regretted it yet.

She was dancing with a tall blond boy. Someone who wasn't him. He supposed it made him angry, but he knew that was right.

That was how it was supposed to be.

That was how it had to be.

And that was why he was sat on the floor, with his knees pushed up to his chest and a drink in his hand. He was draining the cup quickly, too quickly for his liking. But he just wanted those thoughts to go away. He wanted to be able to look at other girls and not compare them to her - how small she was, how red her hair was, how full of life her eyes were.

So Jonathan watched Clary dance with the boy. She looked like she was having such fun. He sighed, running his hand roughly through his hair, now scrupulously dishevelled.

Something brushed against his arm and he turned his head to see a black-haired girl sat beside him.

"You look like you need to get laid." She said in a slightly seductive tone.

He smiled a half smile and looked at her. She was the complete opposite of Clary, tall, endless black hair and dark pretty eyes. She had a deep red top, black skinny jeans and black high-heeled ankle boots too. Needless to say, she was drop-dead gorgeous.

"Are you offering?" he said, in the same drawling tone as her.

"Not really," she said bluntly.

"Well you look like you need to get laid too," he retorted.

She laughed loudly.

"I wouldn't have done it with you anyway. I'm in love with the wrong person." He continued. He was surprised at himself for giving such an honest answer, but the way she had talked made him want to tell her…

A boy walks past them, but not before filling theirs cups completely.

"It can't be as bad as who I'm in love with," she replied.

"By all means, shoot."

"I'm in love with my brother," she threw casually.

His eyes dropped, and she studied his face carefully.

"...and you're in love with your sister." She trailed.

Isabelle looked over at Jace and the cute redhead he was dancing with. He could have done so much better. He could have done better with _her_.

She stood up abruptly, brushing herself off and completely draining her cup. Then she offered her hand to him, the beautiful platinum blonde of his hair reflecting the small lights on the ceiling.

"Come on," she said. "You're going to dance with me."

He stood up, taking her hand.

"I'm Jonathan."

"Isabelle," she said before dragging him onto the middle of the floor.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he held her waist. There wasn't any awkwardness between them, surprising considering they'd known each other for about two minutes. At first it's just swaying in time to the music. And then it starts heating up. They're both rocking their hips into each other, trying to drown themselves and their feelings for others in the loud music. They were so flexible with their bodies, able to dance freely, the way dancers were meant to dance – with strength, grace, passion.

Jonathan could have been drunk. He didn't know. He didn't really feel like it. But when he suddenly kissed Isabelle, he questioned whether he was or not.

He pulled away quickly, and started to apologise. But he didn't think Isabelle cared in the slightest because she grabbed him by the collar, slamming him back against her. She smiled like quicksilver as she pulled him by the hand to one of the rooms.

Jonathan knew what she's doing. Distracting him. He'd tried it before. It never worked. But she was different. They were friends – sort of. And he had her against the wall. That definitely counted too.

But it was stopped all too soon.

There was a muffled "Hey!" And a crash, Jonathan whipping his head round to look. The lights were flicked on by Isabelle at the door.

There were two boys, one still on the bed and the other stood up.

"Alec?" She said.

The stood up boy's cheeks went pink slightly.  
Jonathan looked between them. He noticed the resemblance, the dark hair and the pale foreign skin.

Alec stuttered over his words.

But Isabelle smiled softly, turning the light back off and walking out of the room. He followed suit, albeit confusedly.

"Do you- you want to go home?" He said.

"Sure."

They walk in silence as they get out of the building. Jonathan pulls out his keys and gestures to the silver, almost blue car that he owned.

They both _sit_ in silence as he drives.

"He's my brother." She says abruptly.

He wanted to say _I know_ but no words seemed to form on his lips.

She stared ahead, in deep thought.

"He's not straight. He thinks- he thinks there's something wrong. This is him realising that it isn't wrong. This is him accepting who he is. I really hope it's not a drunk one night stand. And if it is, I'm going to kill him," she said jokingly. But Jonathan had the feeling she wasn't joking.

"Turn left here," she said after a while.

That was a lot more than Isabelle had ever shared with a stranger. But, she supposed, they didn't have to be strangers. They could be whatever they wanted to be.

Couldn't they?

"That's my street."

She told him the door number, turning her head to look at him. And then:

"Do you want to be my friend?"

"I thought we were already friends," He replied.

She laughed. He liked Isabelle. There was that fierceness and delicacy combined that fascinated him, made him wonder what she had been through to be like that.

Isabelle picked up a sharpie that was standing up in his cup holder, flipping it in her hand. Leaning over, she pulled his wrist towards her, pushing his sleeve up. She wrote her number across the inside of his arm in and elegant scrawl with a small heart at the end.

"Sharpie? Really? This won't come off, you know."

"I find nail polish remover works wonders" she says cheerfully.

She leaned over, kissed him on the cheek, whispering "Goodnight, Jonathan," in his ear. Then she flounced out of the car and into the darkness.

He watched to make sure she was safe, before driving away with cloudy thoughts.

* * *

 ** _OKay, so a few clarifications. This is a Jonabelle story. Ain't no two ways about it. Also. Update so fast! Yay. And this story is also loosely based off the music by AlunaGeorge. So if you wanted some music, feel free to explore._**

 ** _Leave a review my dears._**


	3. Chapter 3

By now, after two months, they knew everything about each other. Inside out.

He knew her favourite colour; her ice cream flavour; her fear of thunder since she was four years old; the way she never stayed with a guy after sleeping with them. Her passion for believing in what's good in the world; her products; her ways of distracting herself.

Failures.

Flaws.

Everything.

And she knew everything about him. They weren't dating, but they'd become best friends. They liked their friendship. It was solid, normal, not like the people they loved. It was so real compared to the conflicting feelings they were having.

He received a text from her.

 _Hey._

 ** _Hey_** _._ He texts back.

 _Do you want to go out?_

 ** _Sure._**

 _Pick me up?_

 ** _So demanding._**

He smiled anyway.

 _Be there in ten._

* * *

On days like this, they went to each other's house. Isabelle said that her brothers, Alec and Jace, were out, so they went to her house.

They ended up on her bed, her sat at the top of the bed cross legged and him lying with his head in her lap. Her hands played softly with his hair, stroking and twisting the soft strands around her fingers. Jonathan felt content lying on Isabelle.

He - he only felt normal when he was around her.

And Isabelle felt the same. Around him, she would talk for hours on end.

Like right now. She was talking about Jace and this redhead who'd started going out. She hadn't liked it at all.  
His eyes closed, and he let her talk because it entertained him and he was so tired.

"…But they would have cute babies together," She said finally.

He smiled. He was drifting now. Lack of sleep was really getting to him. And then he was gone, with the feeling of her hands in his hair.

Jonathan woke up to familiar music playing softly by his ear. It was Isabelle's favourite band. It was also another thing he knew about her. She didn't tell people that the music she enjoyed wasn't main-stream. They just assumed she was all about the popular songs. But like he said, their relationship was different.

She hadn't moved in the time that he had slept, and was now texting on her phone. He shifted while cracking his eyes open and she glanced at him, smiling as a greeting.

"What time is it," he said tiredly, his eyes shutting again.

"7:33," she said. "Jace and the redhead have come home. I think they're about to watch a movie. Do you want to go downstairs?"

"If you have coffee."

"Do we have oxygen? What kind of a question is that?"

He laughs again.

They head towards the kitchen, passing the living room, and Isabelle stops. There's a faraway look in her eye, and he turns around to ask her why she stopped and then her lips were on his.

 _Okay then. Sure. Coffee afterwards_ , he thought.

He kissed her back, because he liked Isabelle, and he felt good. He knew he wouldn't have to justify anything afterwards with her. And also, he was tired so he could have possibly still been dreaming.

His arms instinctively went to her hips; hers looped around his neck, almost to stop him from breaking away. Not that he wanted to.

But then the worst thing happened.

"Jon?" He heard a girl's voice say.

She had to be kidding. The redhead was Clary. Of course it was Clary. Why of all the redheads did it have to be Clary?

"Clary! This - this isn't what it looks like."

But he stumbled on his words, failing to make himself believable.

"What's up?" Jace said, having walked up to see the commotion.

He turns to look at Isabelle, who grips his hand as Jace had appeared.

"We're just friends. I'm not - he's not in a relationship with me."

"Izzy," Jace said softly.

"You don't have to hide from me."

She turned away abruptly, marching towards the kitchen angrily.

Jonathan gives him a look, before going after her.

Jace just shrugged, confused, and went back to the living room.

"You okay?"

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

"How can they be so oblivious?" She bursts. "How can they not see any of the signs?How can they be such complete _imbeciles_?"

She almost fights him when he moves forward to hug her.

He wraps his arms around her, and for a second they stay in comfortable silence.

"We can't force them to see. You want him to know, but you don't want him to know. Because what will that do to him? You're contradicting yourself. And you know that if you told him, he might hate you, or be disgusted or never talk to you again. And you don't want to risk that. You'd rather be siblings than never see him again.

"This is how it has to be. And you have to learn to make it work."

They were in the same boat, and it felt like really, Jonathan was talking about his own problems rather than helping hers.

"I thought we were making coffee," she said finally.

Subject change.

Not that he minded.

He only minded the sadness he knew they were both feeling.

* * *

"Okay. Why don't you like me? What did I ever do to you?" Jace questioned as he stood by the bottom of the stairs of Jonathan's parent's house. Jonathan had opened the door, regrettably, because Clary had shouted from the top of the stairs to let him in.

"I just don't like the idea of you and Clary going out. You're too old for her," Jonathan said stubbornly, irrationally.

"I'm too old for her? I'm barely a year older than her!" Jace said. "And I've seen you with Isabelle, and she's the same age as Clary," he put emphasis on his words, trying to guilt trip Jonathan. But he wasn't one to be tripped so easily.

"Isabelle and I are just friends. You know that. But I don't know you and what you potentially want to do to Clary."

Jace looked at him in pure shock. It was his first display of some kind of emotion, seeing as throughout the conversation he had remained relatively calm.

"You – You think I'm that kind of person?" Jace said quietly.

"I don't know what kind of person you are. And quite frankly -," He broke off as Clary ran down the stairs with shoes in her hand and a jacket on her arm. She smiled at Jace.

"Hi!" She said brightly. "I didn't expect you to be here so early, so I wasn't ready,"

"That's not even true. You were searching for clothes three hours before," Jonathan said plainly.

Shaking her head, she smiled at Jace again and said:

"Shall we go?"

He nodded, she said a quick farewell to her brother, and they headed out the dor together. Then Jace looked back at Jonathan.

"I don't care if you don't know what kind of person I am. But I do. And I'm definitely not that kind of person."

And with his final words, he let the door slam behind him.

* * *

 ** _Hi. I don't really know where this is going at the moment, but I have a few more chapters that need editing and then they'll be up too within the next few days._**

 ** _So, follow, favourite, review, whatever. I'm kidding. Please do though. :-)_**


	4. Chapter 4

It was his 21st birthday. He went out for breakfast with Clary.

It hurt him because she's still so damn beautiful.

She talks about Jace, how he was the person who she had had the longest relationship with and that was so weird for her... Three years. He'd put up with it for three years. Of course, he still hadn't said anything to her. He wasn't going to. Not ever.

"Do I need to kill him?" he asked politely.

"What?! No!"

"I would if you wanted. Then I'd smuggle you over the borders to a country of your choice and change your name."

She laughed.

"I don't want that," She said, shaking her head. "I think - I think I love him."

She smiled softly, and suddenly he felt sick, his stomach churning and his food not looking so appetising.

"What's wrong," Clary asked, a look of concern on her face. He almost found it funny.

"I feel sick. I don't think this food is sitting well,"

"Oh. Okay. Maybe we should go home..."

"I think that's a good idea."

He lied. Of course he lied. He didn't need her to know. He just wanted her to know. Jonathan had known since he was 18 that he had to stop these feelings. But he just couldn't. Ignoring them was the only way. Pretending they weren't there. But as always, it was harder than it sounded.

* * *

 ** _Are you busy?_** He texted.

 _No._ She replied a few minutes later.

 _But I will be in about two hours._

 ** _Can you come over?_**

 _Pick me up. I want to show you what I got for your birthday._

 ** _You didn't have to get me anything._**

 _That's what you said for the last two years,_ she sent, a laughing emoticon at the end.

 ** _And it's true._**

 _Well I still got you something. And it's really big. But if you don't like it..._

 ** _No. It's fine. You can show me. I'm sure that I'll love it._**

 _Okay then._

He ruffled up his hair, dropping his phone onto the bed and throwing his coat on. Wrapping a green scarf around his neck, he picked up his phone and walked out of his bedroom.

It just so happened that he walked out the moment Clary walked out of her own.

"Where you are going?" she asked.

"Out," was his vague response.

"When you coming back?"

"I don't know."

"What If mom and dad ask where you are?" She says quickly as Jonathan moved to walk down the stairs.

"Tell them I've gone out with a friend."

"Okay then. Bye."

"See you."

* * *

Jonathan knocked at the door to Isabelle's family home.

Her brother, Alec, opened the door unexpectedly.

"Hi," He said awkwardly, pulling the sleeves of his grey jumper down.

"Hi," Jonathan replied, for lack of better words.

"Is Isabelle ready?"

"I don't think so. Do you want to come in?" Alec gestured inwards towards the corridor.

"Sure."

They sat on the sofas awkwardly.

"So," Alec starts. "You and Isabelle."

"We're not dating," he said quickly, firmly. "We're just... really good friends."

"You know that she loves Jace," he said pointedly.

"Yes," he said softly.

"Just- keep her safe, okay?"

"Okay, Alec."

* * *

"Do you trust me?" Isabelle questioned as she circled his car parked on the side walk.

"With my life."

"Hm," She responded, seemingly content with his answer. "What about your car?"

"Well. That's a little more dangerous."

"And are you willing to take the risk?" She asked in a serious tone.

"Sure," He said casually

He tosses his keys, and she catches then with ease, before sliding into the driver's seat.

"Where are we going?" He inquired curiously.

"You'll see," she sang.

They arrived at a series of apartments. Jonathan had a faint idea of where this was going, but he didn't mention anything.

Isabelle was practically running out.

She directed him through the corridors, before arrive at the number 36.

She was almost vibrating now, as she pulled out a set of keys

Unlocking the door, she pushed it open.

"Tadaah. I bought you a house!"

It didn't really register in Jonathan's head. He stood in slight shock. Isabelle had bought him a house. Isabelle lightwood. She had bought him an apartment. With what money? Her own?

"My parents," she said, clearly pleased with herself.

"Anything to help me become an independent self-sufficient mature lady," She said, rolling her eyes. He just stared. Isabelle takes his hands.

"Besides," she said. "We're best friends. I thought this could be like that." She added softly.

"Isabelle..."

He wanted to kiss her. He really wanted to. His eyes closed slightly.

"Can I - can I kiss you?"

She grinned.

"You don't have to ask."

"I don't?"

"You don't," she said, looping her arms delicately around his neck.

And then he kissed her. It felt like he'd never kissed her before, and he remembered the first time he had. They'd been at that party and he'd been slightly drunk...  
He bit her lip, and she made a sound, her hand slipping upwards into his hair. She loved his hair. The paleness, the softness, and the way it felt under her fingers. She stroked his hair, almost like a cat, and he relaxed into her.  
He gasped slightly as she broke away. Isabelle laughed, and he just stared, his lips parted and feeling swollen. Looking at Isabelle made him suddenly feel a lot less experienced. She pressed her thumb to his mouth, dragging it across his bottom lip. Her eyes were so clear, so dark.

 _"_ _We're so much more than friends,"_ he said roughly.

She smiled.

 _"_ _I know,"_ she replied.

* * *

They'd spent time on the house, fixing it up to their liking, furnishing and painting. They'd decided that laminates were easier than carpet, and so there were laminates stacked up

"Isabelle," he groans. "I'm tired."

There's a childish tone to his voice as he follows her to his new bedroom. They don't bother to change into pyjamas.

"Sleep then."

Isabelle sprawled herself on the bed comfortably, watching as Jonathan practically collapsed on top of her, his head pressed to her stomach. She stroked at his hair slowly, combing it through with her fingers. There were small splatters of blue paint, in his hair and on his face. She could hear his breathing even out slowly, sheer exhaustion taking over his body, his whole body becoming heavier with sleep and the tension disappearing.

So she wondered about him sometimes. She wondered if he liked her, if he honestly liked her. She worried that he was lying, that he was going to somehow manage to break her heart. She liked him, though. She liked him a lot. She'd slowly started to let go of Jace, because clinging to him was pointless. She'd realised that after sometime, after Jonathan had kissed her when she showed him the apartment. Yet, there was the worry that she wasn't enough for him like he was for her. And she couldn't outright ask him either. No. she couldn't do that. She felt herself drifting, in and out of consciousness, the thoughts filling her head. And her hand rested on Jonathan's head, cradling him, protecting him almost…

* * *

 ** _Mmm. I'm tired. Maybe I should sleep. My hands hurt. I also have a cold and I wanna watch Narnia. Yep, that's about it._**

 ** _Write a review!_**


	5. Chapter 5

The apartment was finished. The dining room was cream, with detailed furniture, the kitchen in the corner. There were two bedrooms, one with Isabelle's stuff and the other with Jonathan's. But they both slept in Jonathan's room. Isabelle hadn't realised yet, but she much preferred sleeping with him than on her own. It made her feel safer.

Her back was against his stomach, his leg thrown carelessly across hers. His fingers were splayed on the warm skin under her tank top. Isabelle's hair was spread across the pillows, thick and luscious and so, so dark.

Jonathan woke up slowly, his eyes adjusting to the light. He shifted slightly, feeling much too warm and stuffy. He tapped a rhythm onto Isabelle's skin, a slow drumming beat, to see if she was awake. She didn't move. He pulled himself away from her, cold air robbing him of her warmth, pulled the covers up, tucking them into her. He headed out of the bedroom, to the bathroom, to brush his teeth and wash his face.

A couple minutes later, he was sat in the kitchen eating cereal. Isabelle waltzed in, her hair un-brushed and looking half asleep. She still managed to look sexy as ever.

"I think you're the only one who could pull that look off," he said casually.

"Thanks," she said dryly. She sifted through the cupboards slowly. "Where's the coffee?"

"Don't we have any?" he replied.

"Noooo. What will I do?"

"Eat cereal?" He suggested.

"But I don't want cereal," she said with the stubbornness of a child.

"We could go buy some." He said plainly.

She mulled it over and sighed.

"Okay fine. I'll be ready in ten."

"Okay then."

He finished his cereal, washing the bowl in the sink and heading towards his room. He found Isabelle wearing shorts and topless rummaging through his drawers.

"I've lost my jumper," she said. "You know the red one; with the long sleeves..." she trailed off, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I think you put it in the wash," He said slowly. His thoughts were jumbled. He couldn't remember what he was doing... oh yeah. Get changed. Go to shops. Yep. But for a second, he'd realised that something had changed.

With them.

He didn't know what, or why, but he felt their relationship had changed. And for two things. Isabelle was suddenly very self-conscious, which never happened. She'd always felt free around him, there never being a need for her to hide.  
The second was that Jonathan thought he was attracted to her. He'd always known that she was beautiful, inside and out, but she'd never been attractive in _that_ way to him. So why was she now?

* * *

They went roaming through the supermarket, a basket on one of Izzy's arms and her other arm hooked around Jonathan's. She'd bought herself coffee, and thrown in some other essentials, before paying and leaving. He drove them home, their home, that they lived in together.

She felt quite good saying that. It felt like she'd finally gained some control over her life, even though she hadn't yet completed university and was living with a boy. A boy she knew better than herself. It felt good to know she wasn't alone.

But then she remembered something that she needed to tell him. How would she phrase it?

"Jonathan?" She said.

"Yeah?"

"How would you feel if... if I went on a date with someone?"

He bit his lip in confusion for a second, and she almost relaxed, until his face was suddenly completely expressionless, his eyes hard and unblinking as his grip tightened on the wheel.

"Izzy. If you want to go out with someone you don't need my permission. I'm not your brother." It was almost harsh in the way he said it, the hostility evident in the way he said Izzy. He never called her that. They sat in what felt like an eternity in silence, and then after what seemed like forever he just got out of the car and walked away.

She didn't really know what to do.

* * *

Of course, Isabelle went on the date, with a cute brown haired boy. But she knew it wasn't going anywhere, and for that she was grateful.

The boy- Simon - seemed pleasant enough. But he knew too, Isabelle thought, that it wasn't going anywhere, and so she bid him goodnight and left him alone.

She went home disappointed in herself.

His lips crashed against hers heatedly almost as soon as she walked in, his body lined with tension and anger. Her bag fell to the floor without a second thought.

"You didn't have to date him," he said roughly. Isabelle's hands pulled at his hair as he kissed her, pressing her harshly against the wall.  
"Why did you do that to me?"

His tone was holding concealed anger, a possessiveness she hadn't thought he had. But it also had sadness, innocence, longing. Longing for _her._

She smoothed her hands over his neck, watching as his eyes closed. Jonathan's hands were melded into her hips, gripping tighter as he moved from her lips to her neck. Kissing the skin there, he scraped his teeth slightly across her warm skin. Isabelle made an unintelligible noise, pushing at his hair, holding him against her neck. Oh, how she loved his hair. It was incredibly fine, running through her fingers lavishly like silk. She was trying to comfort him, she realised belatedly.

Why had she gone on that date? She had everything here, with him, a beautiful boy who was kissing her like no other. And he knew what she wanted. She knew what she wanted - what they both wanted.

She didn't stop him.

He woke up pressed to Isabelle. That was common, normal, even. What wasn't normal was the lack of clothes on both of them. Where were their clothes?

Oh...

He wondered if he regretted it. He didn't really think he did. But did that change what they were? Would she leave him like every other boy in her life? He wasn't the same, was he? It was so confusing.

Jonathan got up slowly, unwinding himself from around her, finding himself clothes and leaving the bedroom.

For a while, he just sat at the dining table, because he didn't really know what to do. Then, he started thinking - about them. About where they were. He had one idea, but no. That couldn't work. Isabelle wouldn't want that.

"Morning," she said softly. He didn't respond. Isabelle made her way carefully towards Jonathan, as if he'd be scared away by her. When she was close enough, she pressed her hand to his cheek, tilting his face up to look at her.

"Tell me,'' She breathed, in that same soft tone, so unlike herself. "Tell me what's wrong."

He shook his head, standing up in front of her and looking down. Though she was relatively tall, he was taller.

"I-" he began. But he never finished his sentence. His phone began to ring on the table.

"I have to take this," He said quietly.

And then he walked away from her.

* * *

He went home that very same day. He said he missed his family. Isabelle saw straight through the lie. She didn't object.

Jonathan was gone for four days. And those four days were the loneliest days of her life. She wasn't willing to go home, because she knew that questions would be asked. Isabelle didn't want to do that. Instead, she made herself keep busy, or she tried to, working extra hours with her job, staying out late.

One day, it was cold outside. She took the first scarf she saw, a green long one, wrapping it around her neck before she walked out the door for her shift. She was almost overwhelmed, her eyes threatening to tear up, when she realised that it wasn't hers. It was like breathing him in, but he wasn't there.

He wasn't there.

So she called in sick, took the day off. She took the scarf off, clutching it in her hand. She went to his room, ignored the clothes she was wearing. Her shoes came off.

And there she lay; curled up in his bed holding the green material to her chest, all by herself, salted rain running from her eyes.

* * *

Jonathan unlocked the door quietly. He made his way through the apartment silently, in case Isabelle was asleep.

He went to his room, tired as hell. His head was throbbing, he missed Isabelle more than he ever thought he would, and-  
"Where have you been?"

Jonathan looked at her. He could tell that she'd been crying. He voice was quiet.

"You left. Did you tell me you were safe? No. Did you tell me where you'd gone? No. Did you say how long you'd go? No. So why the _hell_ are you here now?"

He didn't answer. In that moment, the way she was looking at him, all the rejection and brokenness, he couldn't find anything to say. Only two words came to mind.

"I'm sorry," he said. He couldn't help but turn away. Jonathan made to walk away. There was nothing else he could do. He wasn't good for her, he could see that. Maybe, maybe she'd be better off without him.

She leapt of the bed.

"Where are you going?" She said, part anger, part shock.

"I should never have come back. I'm just no good for you. For anyone. I'm stopping you from being _free._ Don't you get that?" He said harshly.

"No. You don't get to make that decision. You don't get to do that!"

She grabbed him by the wrist. He tried to make her let go-

"No. Isabelle, please. You're only doing this because you think you have to. Just _let go_."

"Do you still love her?" She asked abruptly.

"What?"

"Do you still love her? Because if you do, I'll let you go. You'll never have to see me again. But-"

"I love you," he said quietly.

That was all she wanted to hear.

"Then stay," she said softly. She hated how broken her voice sounded. "Please, just stay,"

He looked down, before beginning to slowly unbutton his coat from the top down. Gently, she pulled his trembling hands by the wrists away from his chest, moving them closer to her face. Jonathan stared at her, for what seemed an eternity, and she kissed him, these small little kisses that made him shiver, over and over. And he kissed her back, of course he kissed her back, trying to pour his soul into his actions - make her feel how much it hurt, how much _he_ hurt.

 _I'm sorry,_ He was saying.

 _I'm sorry._

 _I'm sorry._

* * *

 _ **Love you all. Leave a review!**_

 _ **(P.S. Anyone like Bastille? Their new album came out today. It is so good.)**_


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